When he stops walking, it takes every effort to keep me from tripping over my feet. I gaze up to find his features grave.
“Did the man in question hurt you?”
I squirm, my insides writhing like snakes. Gil never laid a hand on me, but his treachery hurt worse than Brother Matthew’s fists.
“It was more like a betrayal,” I murmur.
He nods, his dark gaze boring into my soul. “And is he still in the picture?”
“Absolutely not,” I say, meaning every word.
Mr. Rochester’s eyebrows rise. “Are you still in love with this man?”
“No.” The word comes out as a snarl.
Features lightening, his lips quirk into a pleased smile. “And you came here for a second chance?”
“Something like that.” I glance away, not trusting myself to speak. I can’t exactly tell him I came here because I’m wanted for murder. That would probably make him some kind of accomplice.
“What happened to your wife?” I peer at him through my lashes, desperate to change the subject.
“She died in childbirth.” He continues walking.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, stumbling to keep up.
He sighs, a sound that comes straight from the heart. “At the time, I felt utterly betrayed. We’d sworn to love and cherish each other forever. Then she left me alone.”
The pain in his voice is so raw, so real that my heart aches for his loss. It reminds me so much of Gil’s abandonment. And the gut-wrenching betrayal I felt the moment I realized Brother Matthew wanted me for more than just babysitting. We fall silent, walking down the path together in a shared understanding of loss and broken promises. Already like kindred spirits.
But I can’t have a man I find attractive associate me with his dead wife. Or with grief. So I scramble for whatever I can say to shake off this somber mood.
“What is Adele like?” I blurt.
When he looks at me again, his whole demeanor brightens. “She’s my pride and joy. Beautiful blonde ringlets, crystal blue eyes, and a smile brighter than the sun. You will adore her.”
My chest unfurls with warmth, melting away my lingering doubts. It doesn’t matter so much that my chargehas a contagious disease or the housekeeper is creepy. Even last night’s masked man doesn’t seem so strange.
“How old is she?” I ask with a smile.
“She just turned five.”
“I can’t wait to meet her,” I reply, already picturing myself with a stepdaughter instead of Brother Matthew’s sons.
“Adele is excited to finally have female company,” he says.
Something in his tone makes me wonder if he’s talking about himself. I peer up at him through my lashes, finding him gazing down at me with an intensity that makes my stomach flip.
“Did you have much of a social life in Beaumont City?” he asks as we reach the house.
I think about the nightclubs and casinos, the cigar bars and hotel rooms. The endless stream of men who paid for my company.
“Not really,” I mutter.
He raises his brows. “A beautiful girl like you would have been inundated with dates.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “I actually liked the quiet life.”
Pausing at the doorway, he places a hand on my shoulder, making me meet his dark eyes. Warmth shines in his handsome face, shadowed with something like longing. “Won’t you find Rochester Manor boring?”
